A Kingdom for a Princess
by AusilinAzure
Summary: [Zayn Malik love story]


Chapter 1

I was just about to fall asleep in maths when the receptionist knocked on the classroom door, jolting me awake. A thin line of sweat on the old, bony lady's forehead shows that she ran from one end of the school to the other in a hurry. I feel sorry for whoever she needs to call upon. It's not unknown for the receptionist to have a strop with somone and to take them out of classes to do her labouring work.

The enthusiastic, blonde, bubbly, maths teacher waved the older lady in, as they whispered to each other in the corner. _More bitching, I see_. I rested my face onto the palms of my hands, letting my eyes droop. Two winks away from sleep, and the sharp, snappy voice of the receptionist cuts over the waves of my dreams.

"Fiammetta Miricolo! Come, please," although she used a 'please', the impatience and worry was evident in her voice.

Eyes snapping open, I looked in her direction. The whole class looked at me, eyes confused. I never do anything bad – I mean, I'm just like any other normal fourteen year old kid. I'm no anomaly. Everything I do is average, no where near top, so why does this lady have a sudden intrest in me? _Stop over reacting_, I told myself. It could be that I forgot to bring in my slip for the residential trip next week. _Yeah, that's it._

"Do I need my bags?" My voice was low and scratchy, and I had to surpress a yawn.

She shakes her head. "I don't imagine so, dear." She never called anyone dear. She was the evil receptionist.

I shrug her kindness away – it probably _is_ just kindness – as I walk out of the class, everyone tracing my every movement. By now, Miss Heather would have carried on teaching, but even her eyes were following me, making me wearier than before. My mind was too tired and sluggish to run into hyper drive over what was happening, so I trail behind the old lady through the winding corridors, listening to her shoes clicking rhythimatically on the marble flooring.

At last, we reach the reception. The old lady goes behind the desk, whilst I wait impatiently beside her. _I could be asleep right now_. She looks at me quisically, and when I don't say anything, she asks,

"What are you doing here? Scram!"

Raising an imploring eyebrow, I say, "why the hell did I have to come here?"

Her face sharpens at my cursing, as she points towards the visitor's lounge, smugly."Or do I have to take you there, too?"

"Yes, you do," I say, mearly to spite her. Grunting, the old lady lead me to the lounge, a collection of matching wooden chairs with the school photos on the coffee table in the middle of the room, which had all the school photos in it. The cream walls were scattered with awards administred to the head of the school and the school itself. One person sat behind the main desk (we have two receptionists) and two burly men sat at the wooden chairs, looking ot of place.

"So who am I waiting for?" I had assumed that that's why I was in the visitors lounge, but I could be mistaken. Perhaps the reason why I was here was to fix the old bookshelf; I never should have tried to run out of school.

Laughing lightly, the receptionist nodded towards the two bored men on the chairs. "You'll be going with them. I've been informed of the situation. Off you trot."

I rubbed my forehead blinking before calculationg my answer. Lightheadedness throbbed my being: I never was good at thinking things like this first thing in the morning. Or after maths. Or after sleeping.

"No, I won't. I don't know them. And doesn't the school have some kind of policy against that, anyway?"

The scrawny lady yanks at my collar, pulling my ear close to my mouth as if she were about to whisper a secret to me. "They have guns. And the King's medallion sewn into their breastplate. I'm not going to defy the King's men. But you do as you wish." Still grasping my collar, she pulled me towards the men, who were now stood up. The closest one reached for me, grasping my upper arm and towering over me superiorly. His grip was strong, his thick gloves stopping me from biting his fingers.

"Let go!" I snapped, trying to pull out of his grip. The staff toilets are just around the corner, if I could just run it wouldn't be too hard to lock myself in one and come out when the buses came-

My left arm, which wasn't being held onto, flailed, as I tried to pry his iron grip _off _ of me. His loud laugh stopped me short, as his friend patted his gun, reminding me that I'm at their mercy and that I have been over powered.

At that point, I realise that there is no way out. So what if I go hide in the toilets? These people have guns. I don't think that they'd care too much about knocking down a door or two.

I have no one left to hide behind. So I let the men drag me away.

The man let go of me when we got into the black car that was waiting outside.

"So… Fiammetta Miriacolo? The Prince has been waiting for you."

I don't ask how he knows my name. I simply try to ignore him as I force all of my attention out of the window.

"My name's Niall," he continues, acting as if I care about this information about this stranger's life.

"Aren't you going to be greatful that you'll be able to meet the gracious leader of this thriving empire?" I turned my head towards himm, scanning his face. He had a pale complextion, his hair was messy and looked bedraggled in the stylish kind of way, and his eyes were a frosty yet bright blue colour. He obviously had full faith in his King.

"Aren't you an arse lick?" I ask him, imitating his irish accent before looking back out of the window. I know that the King lives in London, which is about two hours away from where I live, but that's on train, so by car we'd probably be quicker.

But am I actually going to see the Prince? And who are these people? This isn't just some weird guy who fancies himself to be Prince and who is just a fake, like in all those books? My mind racks into all of my internal storage files – since when have I grasped the attention of royalty? And _how?_ What does he want from me, of all people?

I hear the chuckle from the other guy who decided to kidnap me from the seat infront of me. My eyebrows ruffle as I burn a hole in the back of his head. I hadn't ment to be funny, and this bastard was laughing at me?

"Shut it, curly." I manage to mumble. An odd habit which I had attained was sleeping when a) I was tired and b) when life got too annoying and I just needed an escape route. This circumstance is a mixture of both.

I tried not to sleep, but in the end, it was just too much.

A/N You guys like it? Please tell me your thoughts and views on this chapter! This is the first One Direction fan fiction that I am posting on , and I'm a little sceptical about this story, so please tell me your ideas and if this story is good enough to continue. If you do want to read any of my other One Direction fanfictions, I am on Quotev under the name 'AusilinAzure is in way too much Payne'. Thanks!


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